


Washed Away

by Denstort



Series: Part 1 of ' I Belong To You?' [1]
Category: Muse
Genre: Angst, Angst- Friendship- Memory Loss, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2197866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denstort/pseuds/Denstort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A headache makes Matt Bellamy testy and an argument between himself and Dom turns nasty…not even Chris can mediate. Matt storms off, and the others expect he’ll come back in a few hours. However he doesn’t and a frantic search begins……..meanwhile, on an isolated island community, a dark-haired, blue-eyed man is found on the beach…not knowing his name or where he comes from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Christ, will this headache ever go away Matt thought as he rolled his head, hoping that it would relieve the thumping in his head. He picked up the packet of pain-killers, and popped a couple of tablets. For a few seconds, he wondered how many he had taken, but the headache overruled his concern.

He dry-swallowed them and left his cabin, and made his way to the dining room. It hadn’t been the band’s idea, but the invite had come from an old friend, who had made it big. He’d asked them to perform for one of his charities and they’d said a collective yes.

Now they were on his private yacht…well super-yacht, anchored in the middle of… he couldn’t remember; he was really rubbish at knowing where he was, and oceans and sea were worse.

The bright lights of the dining room hurt his eyes, and made his headache worse. He spotted Dom and Chris, so he wandered over, smiling when someone smiled at him.

“You alright, mate?” Dom said, as he handed him a glass of red.

“Yeah, just don’t feel like socialising,” he replied.

Dom put an arm round his shoulder and said, “We only have to mingle for a while, then we can eat. Then it’s back to shore, play the gig and be back in London by Thursday.”

Matt didn’t reply and extricated himself from Don’s arm; it irritated him for some reason.

They sat down to dinner, but the headache made him feel nauseous; all he wanted to do was lie down in a dark room. Dom was telling some story, for the millionth time about something Matt had done on stage.

Usually he would just laugh and counter it with a story about Dom…but tonight. He slammed his glass down and hissed.

“Very funny…ha-ha.”

The diners around them fell silent at his outburst.

“Matt, what’s your problem?” Dom said.

Matt narrowed his eyes, and anyone who knew Matt would take that as a bad sign. But Dom’s Matt-temper radar had been dulled by a little too much alcohol.

“Don’t go all hissy-queen….”

He never finished his sentence, and it degenerated into a full-blown argument, which silenced the whole room.

Words were spat and not even Chris could calm the pair. 

Eventually Matt let loose a string of expletives; which Dom reflected on later, he would never had done, not in this sort of company, after which he stormed out of the room.

His friend was about to go after him, but Chris said.

“Leave him, he’ll calm down and be back.”

When he didn’t come back, they assumed he’d gone back to his cabin. So they finished their dinner and retired to their respective beds, and the yacht sailed back towards land.

***************************

Matt stormed out of the dining room and instead of going back to his cabin, he went on deck, letting the cool breeze calm his temper.

He looked down at the water, and stood on the railing to get a better look.

A wave of dizziness made him suddenly grab the railing in alarm. He steadied himself, but another wave of dizziness made his balance go. 

He let out an alarmed cry, which no-one would hear.

Wind-milling his arms, he tried to regain his balance. He failed and fell silently into the water.

He didn’t panic, he knew there was a ladder and he was a strong enough swimmer to get to it. He swam towards it, when there was a swell in the water, and it carried him towards the side, and his head collided with it.

**********************

Rachel picked up the leash and clipped it to her dog’s collar. She loved this time of year, when summer was just turning to autumn, and there was a slight chill in the air.

The last boat of the wildlife watching season had left yesterday, and her small bed and breakfast was now empty, and she’d made a tidy profit.

She let the dog off the lead when she approached the edge of the only accessible beach, and let it run around. She watched a few seals, as they bobbed in the waves.

She took out her binoculars and watched them swim away, noticing the super-yacht, making its way over the horizon; the lucky super-rich at play.

Her attention was drawn by her dog; it was barking furiously it must have found something; a seal perhaps. She picked her way across the rocks that littered the sand and then stopped….was that a body?

She hurried the rest of the way, her heart pounding as she approached.

It was a man, and not a sailor, judging by his clothes. Had he fallen overboard, or survived a downed vessel….was he dead?

Her dog was going mad, so she said, “Leave him, Buster!”

She moved closer and knelt down beside the body. She brushed away dark hair plastered against pale skin and nervously put two finger on his neck…please let there be a pulse.

Oh, thank god…there was one.

Now she had to find a way to get him off this beach and into the warm. She would have to call Robert, the nominated medic stroke search and rescue.

She didn’t bother with her mobile, reception was rubbish out here. She took out her trusty two-way radio.

“Robert, pick up Robert.”

“Rachel?” his voice came back.

“I need you to bring the rescue kit to the south beach. I found someone washed up on it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dom woke to a thumping hangover, he opened bleary eyes and realised the thumping was someone at the door, He stumbled out of bed and opened it, to find a non-too-happy Chris.

“Christ mate, I’ve been banging on your door for ages. Matt’s gone overboard.”

Dom thought he’s misheard, “What?”

Nah, he’s just hiding and sulking.

“Don’t be daft.”

“They’ve searched the yacht, twice….he’s gone. The coastguard are starting a search.”

Dom had to grab the door…overboard…Matt had gone overboard.

“But…..how?”

“They don’t know. I went to his cabin this morning, to see if he was okay. His door was open, I don’t think he ever got there.”

Dom got dressed in seconds, and they went on deck.

The yacht was back in its berth, but they weren’t interested in that. What did take their attention was the gaggle of journalists and TV crews.

They both rounded on Matt’s friend.

“How the hell did they know?” Chris growled.

“They monitor the emergency channels. Sorry guys, but we have to go ashore, the local police want to talk to us.”

They wished the short launch trip was longer; as soon as they set foot on the harbour, the press were on them, shouting out their names and questions.

They ignored them, until one of them asked.

“Did Matt really go overboard by accident?”

That got to Chris, and using every inch of his size he loomed over the reporter.

“Are you saying he was suicidal?”

The reporter, not taking Chris’s tone as a warning to stop said, “Well, he’s always been slightly…”

He never got to finish his sentence as Chris’ fist met his nose.

“Why don’t you all piss off,” Dom snarled.

The gaggle of press suddenly parted and two uniformed policemen and one in a suit appeared.

“Mr Howard, Mr Wolstenhome, this way. A statement will be made when appropriate,” the man in the suit said.

Then they were away and in the safety of the police station.

“I’m Detective Sanderson, please sit. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

“Like what?” Dom asked.

“What frame of mind was Mr Bellamy in the last time you saw him?”

They looked at each other, and they told him.

“But he’s always come back, like nothing had happened.”

“And that would be his normal behaviour?”

“Yeah,” the said together.

A knock at the door interrupted them.

“Excuse me a minute,” the detective said and left the room.

“Chris,” Dom said. “What if he’s dead?”

Chris blinked at that, and put a hand on Dom’s shoulder.

“We can’t think like that…oh god, has anyone phoned his mum and dad?”

“I think Tom did…on the boat….yeah, I’m sure he did,” Dom said.

The detective returned and his face was serious.

“I have not good news. There’s a storm heading this way, the coastguard are calling off the search.”

Both of them could only look at the detective.

“Don’t lose hope, there a few islands in that area, he could have been washed up on one of those. They’re isolated and some of them are inhabited, but this storm means they can’t send up a search plane. I’m sorry, you should get some rest. Are you staying on Mr Peter’s yacht?”

“I guess so,” Dom said.

“I’ll get a car to take you back, the press should have been cleared by now. Does he have any family?”

“Yeah, someone’s already phoned them,” Chris said.

“Good, we are of course liaising with the British Consulate. There’s nothing can be now, not until this storm blows over.”

They returned to a press free yacht, but neither of them felt like sleeping. What would they do, if their band-mate and friend of over twenty years was gone?

*******************

Robert finished stitching the deep gash on the back of the man’s head, and with Rachel’s help got him into one of the beds.

“He really needs to go to hospital. He’s probably going to have concussion, or god forbid something worse. I’ll stay until he wakes up.”

“You don’t have to,” Rachel said.

She was going through his sodden clothes, hoping to find some ID. All there was what looked like one of those passes you needed to get into an office. There was a picture of the man, but the writing was all but rubbed away. The only thing she could read was the name James, but whether that was his name or surname, she didn’t know.

“Rachel, I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

She laughed, “Why, do you think he’s a psychopath. This is a bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere, not Bates Motel.”

“Fine, but I’ll have to radio the mainland.”

“I know, but that storm brewing outside could last days.”

Robert sighed, “Was there any ID?”

“Not much, there’s some kind of pass. I think he’s either called James or it’s his surname, but that’s it.”

“Well James, if that’s your name, you are one lucky SOB.”

“He is that,” Rachel said. “Go home, Robert, you should be on duty. I’ll be fine.”

**************************

Why did he have the sound of seals in his ears? He opened his eyes and regretted it, the light was way too bright.

He let out an ‘oww’, which attracted the attention of someone who had been waiting for him to wake.

“Well, it’s about time.”

The voice startled him and he realised he was…where the hell was he?

The voice belonged to a woman, who was pouring some water. She handed it to him and he said to her.

“What am I doing here?”

The woman frowned, “You don’t remember?”

He looked at her and fear suddenly course through him.

“I-I don’t,” he stuttered, then he asked in a hoarse voice.

“Do you know who I am?”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song James's is singing is called Hyper Chondriac Music, a B-side version of Hyper Music from the Hullaballo CD.

Rachel had sat and watched the man, he was slight, but not in an unhealthy way; not fragile….just delicate. His dark hair and near alabaster skin made that appearance more pronounced.

She was startled when he let out an ‘oww’ and blinked vivid blue eyes at her. Then it had taken a turn she hadn’t expected, when he asked.

“Do you know who I am?”

She didn’t know what to say. Concussion or shock, those she could deal with, but amnesia…that was doozy. So she did what she thought was the best thing.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I found you on the beach.”

“Beach?” the man said; he sounded British.

“You really don’t remember…not even your name?”

She stopped when the man seemed close to tears.

“I’m sorry, I won’t ask again. You should get some sleep, are you warm enough?”

The man nodded and once again she was caught by those eyes, he reminded her of…stop it, she said to herself, it’s not your brother, he’s gone.

She went to turn the light out, but the man said.

“Can you leave it on?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said.

She left him then, but kept the door open, just in case.

She woke early and looked in on the man; he was still sleeping. She picked up the clothes she’d searched the night before; he couldn’t wear these. Her brother’s stuff was still here, they should fit. She selected what she thought might suit him and left a note saying ‘use all the hot water you want, and the kitchen is the third door on the left after the stairs.”. 

She busied herself closing off the rooms for the season. She’d just sat down for a break when she heard the creaky step on the staircase.

A few seconds later, the man appeared, and she had to blink….he looked so much like her brother, even more so in his clothes.

“Morning,” she said.

He offered her a shy smile in return, but stood by the door.

“Sit down, would you like some breakfast? I’d ask you what you would like, but…how about some toast?”

She was surprised at how much he’d put away in that skinny frame. She put another cup of coffee in front of him and said.

“So, what do we call you…for now, that is?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“There was this,” she said and pushed the plastic ID at him.

He looked at it.

“James, is that my name?” there was a hopeful tone to his voice.

“It could be, or your surname, or not your name at all.”

“James, I like it,” he said.

“Then James it is, I’m Rachel. So, James, welcome to our small but idyllic island.”

He smiled at her again, then said, “Bit wet and windy.”

Ah…a sense of humour then.

“Feel free to wander the house. I have to close the rest of the rooms off.”

However he, James, seemed happy to follow here around.

*****************************

He’d woken up, still not knowing who he was. The woman who had rescued him seemed nice, and he was grateful for the shower and the clothes; which fitted nicely. Of course, he didn’t know if they were his taste, but he liked the colour.

He hadn’t even asked the woman her name, which he should do.

In the end he didn’t have to as she told him, and they decided on a name he could use…James. Even if it wasn’t his name; he liked it, and he liked Rachel. 

He didn’t know if he had a sister, but if he did, he hoped she was like Rachel.

When she’d said he could wander where he wanted, he panicked slightly. So when she went about tidying and putting things away, he followed her.

They eventually ended up in what looked like a study. It was then that he noticed the guitar.

“Do you play?” he asked.

Rachel shook her head.

“No, my brother, Michael, he played.”

He noted the word ‘played.’

“Not anymore?” he asked.

“He died six months ago, brain tumour,” she replied.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she replied and picked up a photo-frame, and handed it to him. It showed a young man, a broad smile on his face, pretend playing a guitar.

“He was twenty in that photo, he would have been thirty-five this year.”

She sighed, “Still, life goes on,” and put the photo back.

She looked at her watch.

“It’s nearly lunch, and I don’t have anything in. Will you be okay while I go to our one and only store and get some stuff?”

He nodded, “Can I stay here, maybe read something?”

“Of course, I won’t be long.”

Once she’d gone, he perused the book shelf and picked one; something about evolution and settled into one of the chairs. He’d been reading for a while, but then his eyes wandered to the guitar.

He eventually put the book down, and went for the guitar.

Oddly enough, it didn’t seen awkward in his hands. He plucked a couple of string….he really shouldn’t be, but something……

*****************************

Rachel hadn’t really wanted to leave James, but he didn’t need the over-zealous questioning of Mrs Sutter. The weather was making the drive back difficult, and it took her longer than she thought to get back.

She hoped James wasn't getting worried; it couldn’t be nice being in a strange place with no memory.

Eventually she pulled up and ran into the house with the groceries. She stopped when she thought she heard…no, she must have been hearing things. But there it was again…a guitar…what?

She walked towards the study and stopped…it was James.

She was going to say something, but he started singing.

“Your golden lies fill my word,   
In a forgotten space race,  
Under my control”

It was one of the most beautiful things she’d heard. James’s voice had such emotion, a quality you couldn’t learn, you were born with it.

James was so lost in the song that he didn’t notice her standing there, and she didn’t want him to. She waited until he’d stopped playing, then said.

“That was beautiful.”

She didn’t expect James to be so startled. He dropped the guitar and stammered.

“I-I’m s-s-orry….”

Before she could say anything, he’d pushed past her and kept going, out of the house and into the rain.

“James…wait!” she called.

She ran after him, but by the time she’d reached the door, he was nowhere to be seen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silcot Island is a fictional island....and I apologise if I got anything wrong about amnesia( not an expert)

He ran, out of the room and out of the house. He didn’t care that he had known idea as to where he was running to; he just wanted to run.

The feeling he’d gotten when he started to sing, had made his heart soar. It felt like they were coming from somewhere deep in his soul.

Then Rachel had spoken and guilt washed away any joy he’d had. He’d dropped the guitar, and before Rachel could scold him for using her brother’s instrument, he pushed past her and into the rain.

Now he was walking, where to, he didn’t know. All that seemed to be running though his mind was where had those words come from….and his voice?

Who was he…and the more he thought, the less joy he felt.

Who the hell was he?

Other thoughts began to swirl in his mind…feelings of paranoia, and that someone was looking for him, but not in a good way. Fear welled up; he didn’t want to know who he was, he was James, and he would stay James.

**************************

Rachel was about to get into her car, when she saw Robert’s vehicle coming up the dirt road. She ran towards it.

“Rachel, what the hell?” Robert said, as she jumped in the passenger seat.

“It’s James.”

“James?”

“It’s what we decided to call himself,” she replied. “He ran.”

“Why did he run?”

“I came back from the store, he was playing Michaels’ guitar, and singing. It was….there!” she cried.

James was walking along the dirt road, looking very much like the proverbial drowned rat.

Robert stopped his vehicle, just ahead of him.

Rachel wound down her window, “Where are you doing?”

“Just walking,” he replied.

“Where to?”

“Don’t know, anywhere.”

“Get in the car…please,” she said.

“Never mind my upholstery,” Robert said as James got in the back.

An hour later he was back in bed and Rachel and Robert were sitting by the fire.

“Were you upset that he was playing Michael’s guitar?” Robert asked.

Rachel stared into the fire, “No….it was extraordinary. Like he’d been doing all his life.”

“I’ve read about this. If someone does something repeatedly, anything, it sticks, even when something traumatic happens….like amnesia. I suppose it’s similar to muscle memory.”

“So, he could be a singer? He sounds like one, a talented one.”

“He could be. I’ll try and radio the mainland again. Surely someone must be missing him.”

“Please don’t,” a voice came from behind them.

They turned, James was standing in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket.

“Why?” Robert asked.

“I’m not ready to know….not yet. Please, just wait.”

“Okay, I will. But we will have to sometime.”

“I know,” James replied.

A day turned into days and then a week; then a month, and still James showed no interest in finding out who he was. Robert didn’t press the issue; he wasn’t the authorities, and Rachel, she liked having James around.

He was helpful and so he discovered, quite creative, as she noticed little doodles on pieces of paper or undusted shelves. He hadn’t sung again, but sometimes she could hear him humming what sounded like something that should be a song.

The weeks turned into months and soon it was tourist season again.

Rachel had to go to the mainland, to get supplies and she asked James if he wanted to come. So they went on her boat and walked into the more tourist- centric small town.

She frowned when she noticed some people were staring at James; even though James didn’t. He was friendly and courteous to the shop owners they visited, and seemed to make friends easily.

However, Rachel was glad when they returned to the island; she didn’t like thy way they were looking at James. It was like they had recognised him…perhaps they had.

**************************

Chris and Dom had returned to the UK, not because they wanted to, but they had to; the record company vultures were circling, itching to make money from what they believed was Matt’s fatal demise…bloody bastards.

Before they realised, four months had gone by, and speculation that they were going to declare Matt missing, presumed dead was floating in the air; not if they could help it.

They were in Matt’s London flat, sorting through some of his things when Tom burst into the flat.

“Guys…you’re never going to believe it. Someone said they’ve seen Matt!”

They both looked at him like he was mad, but then he switched on Matt’s lap-top, and Twitter and You-tube were going crazy, as they stared at a grainy picture of what looked very much like one Matthew James Bellamy, with some woman.

Dom’s phone rang as they were getting into a taxi, it was the detective who had helped them.

“Yes, we’ve seen that. We’re getting a flight as soon as possible. Yes, we’re sure it’s him, yes, it’s good news. I know it might not be him, but we have to know.”

The flight seemed to take forever, and the drive to the small coastal town was interminably long. They saw the detective waiting for them, and they wasted no time in going into the small town, a picture of Matt in their hands.

They asked people if they had seen the man in the picture, and were getting disappointed when all they got were negatives.

Then Dom went into a shop and showed the picture to the owner.

“That’s James,” he said.

“James?”

“Yes, he works for Rachel Jansen, out on Silcot Island…nice bloke, little odd, but nice.”

Dom thanked the man and ran out of the shop and found an excited Chris.

“Someone recognised him,” he said.

“I got that too,” Dom said.

The detective cleared his throat.

“We’ve had to call the FBI in, they’re the only ones who have the authority to deal with this.”

Chris and Dom didn’t care…all they knew was they were going to get their best friend back.

***********************

James looked up when he heard the helicopter…but thought nothing of it. He returned to what he was doing, piling the wood neatly.

He looked up again when he couldn’t hear the helicopter and frowned; it had landed, not far from the house.

He put the handful of logs down and walked towards it.

He saw two men jump out and they seemed to be in a hurry to get to him. He was startled when they pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Jesus Christ, Matt, we thought you were dead,” one of the men said; he was blond.

James pulled himself out of the hug and said in a confused voice.

“I’m sorry, but who are you and who is Matt?”


	5. Chapter 5

Dom frowned at Matt’s words…this wasn’t the time for his brand of wicked humour.

“Not now, Matt,” he said.

He blinked when Matt took a step back and said.

“Stop calling me that, and who the hell are you?”

Dom looked at Chris….was Matt joking?

The look on Matt’s face wasn’t one of amusement; there was no mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Matt, it’s us, Chris and Dom.”

“Stop calling me Matt. I’m James…”

A throat was cleared behind them and the FBI agent stepped forward.

“Mr Howard, Mr Wolstenhome, a word.”

He drew the pair away from their distraught friend.

“I’m not an expert, but he may be suffering from amnesia. But we have to get him to the mainland for tests.”

The sound of a vehicle approaching made them look round. It stopped and the woman they’d seen in the photograph stepped out, followed by another man.

“James?” she said. “What’s going on?”

Dom’s eyebrows raised when she called him James and Matt scooted over to her.

The FBI agent stepped forward, “Are you Rachel Jansen?”

“Yes,” she replied. “And you are?”

The agent took out his badge and handed it to her.

“Are you aware that the man you know as James is in fact Matthew Bellamy?”

The woman looked at him and she didn’t look happy.

“Are you accusing me of something?” she said and stepped in front of Matt.

“Is there a reason I should?” the agent replied.

Chris could see things were getting heated, so he stepped forward.

“Rachel, isn’t it?”

The woman looked at him.

“Why don’t you take….James inside, then we can talk.”

“Robert, can you take James in the house.”

The man nodded and Matt or James needed no encouragement.

The woman narrowed her eyes and said.

“Explain.”

**********************************

Rachel looked at the photographs on the man’s phone….Chris he said his name was, the blond man he said was called Dom. But her eyes were only for the man that often or not was in-between the two, looking happy.

It was James, he had different hair colours, but whether it was a picture of young boys or older men, she could see it was him.

“So, his name is Matthew Bellamy, and he’s in a band with you?”

Chris nodded, “For twenty years, friends for longer.”

“And he’s the singer?”

“Amongst other things.”

“Well that explains his voice and the guitar playing.”

She saw Chris blink, then he said, “It took him years to get the confidence to sing in front of us. He wouldn’t have done that if….”

“What, he was here by force. I’d never do that,” she said.

“He has to come back with us. He’s got a life out there, even he may not remember it.”

Rachel sat back, “And what if he doesn’t want to?”

Chris looked over at the FBI agents and then at the house.

“I don’t think he’ll have a choice. It’s all over the net now, he won’t find any peace here.”

Rachel sighed, “I guess you’re right.”

“Please don’t think badly of us. He’s mine and Dom’s best friend. I can’t bear to think that he’s forgotten all that.”

Rachel knew then that these people were genuine, and cared for James…no, Matthew.

“I’ll talk to him.”

She walked into the house and found Robert and James in the kitchen. James…no, she had to think Matthew still looked unhappy.

“Matthew,” she said. He didn’t respond, so she said it again.

“That is your name, I’ve seen the pictures, actually I’ve seen twenty years’ worth of pictures, and it is you. You can’t stay here.”

“But...” he started to say.

She put her hand on his, “Those two men are your friends…best friends.”

“I don’t know them,” he said, almost in tears.

“But you did and you will again. You need to get your life back.”

He looked at her, and once again she was reminded of her brother…stop it.

“Okay,” he said quietly, then said almost in a whisper, “Rachel, will you come with me?”

She wasn’t expecting that request, and she wasn’t sure how to answer.

Robert answered for her, “You should go, he trusts you. I’ll look after the place, go help him.”

******************************

Dom had watched Chris as he talked to the woman. He felt a little left out, but Chris was the calm, sensible one. He looked up when the door to the house opened, and the woman stepped out. 

Behind her was Matt, all nervous and twitchy…that hadn’t changed. Like Chris he couldn’t bear the thought that Matt had forgotten them, their friendship, everything. What if the things that made Matt…well Matt were lost forever? 

He didn’t care if the band went, but if Matt never regained his memory, then it would be like he had died.

He didn’t know what to say when Matt sat next to him, as they waited for the woman, Rachel to gather some clothes. But it was Matt who spoke first, and he stammered, something he hadn’t done since he was in his early twenties.

“Are w-we friends, Dominic?”

He fought the urge to laugh, he had never called him by his full name, and it sounded…daft. 

“Best buddies.”

“A-and C-c-hristopher?”

“Him too, and its Dom and Chris.”

“And I’m M-m-atthew?”

“Yeah, but you liked to be called Matt. Only your parents and your grandmother call you Matthew.”

“I have f-f-family?”

“Yep, a brother too, and they’ll be glad you’re alive.”

There was silence and Dom looked over; there were tears in Matt’s eyes.

“P-p-people thought I-I was dead?”

“Not your family, not me and Chris. But it’s been six months….there were others, but it doesn’t matter.”

Matt let out a long breath, then said.

“Robert said I’m in a b-b-band?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it c-c-called?”

“Muse.”

Matt suddenly let out a very Matt-like giggle, “That’s a rubbish name.”

Dom had to smile; if only he remembered that he’d chosen the name. Then Matt asked.

“Are w-we any g-g-good?”

Oh boy, he thought, this is going to be fun.


	6. Chapter 6

Dom and Chris had sat and watched Matt during the flight, smiling nervously when he’d caught them watching. They didn’t get chance to talk to him in the car, and as soon as they’d reached the hospital, he’d been whisked away by the doctors.

Then they were told he was physical fine, but according to the on-call psychologist, he was suffering from amnesia. Until they could test him properly, they had no way of knowing if it was going to be long-term or temporary.

Yes, six months was a long time, but that didn’t mean it was a permanent condition. Some people had suffered with amnesia for years and suddenly it all came back, and Mr Bellamy hadn’t been away from familiar things that long….so there was a good chance he would recover his memories.

They’d gone back to their hotel and taken Rachel with them. Chris had gone to phone Kelly and tell her what was going on and Tom had gone to call Matt’s family.

They sat in the bar, way past tired, but too wired to sleep.

Dom put another coffee in front of Rachel and said.

“We never said thank you for looking after Matt.”

Rachel smiled, “I know him as James. Tell me, would I like Matt, if I’d met him before all this?”

Dom thought for a moment, then smiled, “Yeah, I think you would. He’s kind of intense, sometimes a bit too much, but that’s Matt. You just have to know how to surf the wave when it comes at you…but yeah, you’d like him.”

“Would he like me?”

Dom thought again, then nodded, “Definitely, you sound like you don’t take any nonsense, and he likes that, since he’s a bit like a tank sometimes…coming at you and rolling right over you.”

“Sounds like I would. Listen, Dom, I can’t stay for long, I have a business to run, and Matt needs you, not me.”

Dom digested that, then said, “I suppose, can you at least stay until we go back to the UK?”

“Of course. So, your band, I’d like to hear some of your music.”

“Not a problem, we’ll send you the whole back catalogue, and you’re free to call us at any time,” he said, scribbling down his and Chris’s numbers.

“Matt can give you his number, if he ever remembers it.”

“No if Dom, when. He will get his memory back, I’m sure of it. I only knew him…well I suppose James was a part of him, in the end. I only knew him for six months, but I think Matt was in there, I’d catch him humming a tune and wondering where it was coming from, or he was drumming on any surface.”

Dom smiled again…grinned, “Yep, that’s him, always music in his head.”

“See, there’s hope,” Rachel said.

They sat in silence then, until Dom’s phone rang.

“What? How the hell did he get out?”

“Dom, is there a problem?” Rachel said.

“It’s Matt, he gone from the hospital.”

****************************************

 

He’d been quiet during the flight back to the mainland, and the drive to the hospital. He was having trouble processing it all…was he James or was he this Matthew Bellamy?

Okay, they’d said his middle name was James; that would explain why he liked the name. But the rest of it seemed like pure fantasy.

The two men who were nervously smiling at him could be he friends. That he supposed he could accept, some people remained friends all their lives. But this band thing; that did seem like a fairy-tale. He wanted to ask them, but by the time he’d raised the courage, he’d been whisked away by medical staff, and faced a barrage of tests and questions.

He was now alone, in a private room, feeling more than a little bewildered. He’d wanted to see Rachel and he wanted to ask the two men about…well, about everything.

The doctors had told him gently but firmly, that it was late and he could see them in the morning.

He’d tried to sleep, but images kept flashing through his mind…thousands of people looking at him….flashing lights and happy faces.

The room suddenly felt very claustrophobic; he had to get out. He had to somehow find out what these images meant…were they real or just some vivid dream? He decided that what he need was access to the internet; he needed the nearest internet-café.

He found his clothes and peered cautiously out of his room. He quickly made his way out of the hospital, surprised that no-one had challenged him.

He rummaged in his pocket and thanked everything that he had money. He hailed a cab and asked the driver to drop him in the city centre. 

He’d forgotten what city this was, not that he cared. He kept his head down, for fear of someone recognising him, he only stopped to ask whether there was an internet-café.

He found himself in a small but stylish café; it wasn’t over busy, which suited him. He had a moment of panic when several people did double-takes, but shook their heads and went back to staring at their screens.

He had just enough money for an hour’s net time and a coffee. He took the terminal furthest from the door, and with shaky fingers typed in Matthew James Bellamy and added MUSE, just in case there were hundreds of Matthew Bellamy’s.

What he found was almost mind-blowing……staring back at him was site after site and then picture after picture of himself. He clicked on one site and there it was, his whole past, documented in every conceivable way.

How he’d met the two men, Chris and Dom…his life as a kid and a teenager in a small British coastal town. Then came the band…the success and all the trapping that came with it.

He clicked on a You-tube link and there he was, performing a song called ‘Hysteria’, and he looked happy.

It was too much for his fragile mental state, and he ran out of the café, not even sure of where he was going. He didn’t want to go back to the hospital…that life, it scared him. But even as he ran, it was too late; someone had recognised him and was following him.

He only stopped when what little energy he had ran out. He found himself in a park and he sat down on a bench, resting his head in his hands.

He didn’t hear anyone approaching, but he felt their presence. He looked up and saw three people looking at him.

“See, I told you it was him. It’s Matt from MUSE, everybody’s looking for you.”

He blinked, “W-w-hat?”

“It’s all over the news and the net. You’re missing from the hospital. Is it true you’ve got amnesia?”

He sighed and nodded.

“Whoa,” all three said.

“That’s a biggie,” the only girl said and sat down next to him. “Don’t you want your memory back?”

“I d-d-ont know,” he replied.

“It frightens you, yeah. I get that, it’s scary, knowing you’re…well you. But without those memories you’ll never be you. Sure, you can have a whole new life, new memories, but there always be something….something missing.”

He looked at her, “How d-do you know t-that?”

“My friend, he had an accident at work. Hit his head and wham…. all gone. He tried….really tried to build a new life, wouldn’t go for the therapy, said it would be a fresh start. It was fine for a while…then out of the blue, he killed himself, left a note saying he felt like he’d lost something and couldn’t cope anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, but you don’t have to be that way. You can get help, Chris and Dom are your friends, let them help you.”

“Yeah, and you write kick-ass songs,” one of the boys said.

The girl glared at him and said, “You do write kick-ass songs, but more than that, they make people think.”

He looked at the girl, she didn’t know him, but he heard something in her voice, her words sparked something deep inside.

The girl put a hand on his arm and asked, “Do you want us to call someone?”

He sat for a minute, then said, “Yeah.”


	7. Chapter 7

Dom and Chris left it to the record label’s legal rep to tear a strip of the hospital, all they were concerned about was Matt. Never mind why he’d gone, it was where had he gone?

The looked up when Tom ran over.

“They caught Matt on CCTV, he took a cab. They called the company, he was dropped in the city centre.”

“Jesus, he could be anywhere,” Chris said.

“The police want to do a press call, get eyes on the ground.”

A few minutes later they were sat in front of a horde of cameras and reporters. They didn’t say anything, just listened to the police officer.

“If anyone sees Mr Bellamy, please contact us or call this number. If you’re listening Mr Bellamy, at least call to let us know you are safe, thank you.”

There was a clamour of voices and flashes of cameras, but Chris and Dom were ushered away. 

All they could do now was wait.

“Why the hell did he run?” Dom said, as they sat in the small family room.

They hadn’t moved from the hospital, in case Matt came back. They had been siting for what seemed an eternity, when a police officer entered.

“We have a sighting, someone saw him in an internet-café, but he left in a hurry. We’re sending out units to search the area.”

But an hour later there was no news, so the wait went on.

******************

He was still sitting on the bench with the three young people. The girl said.

“We can call from our apartment, it’s getting cold and you’re not exactly dressed for the weather.”

The apartment was warm and he felt a little more secure.

“Right,” the girl said as she handed him a mug of hot chocolate. “Let’s call the cops.”

“N-n-o,” he said, “Not p-police. I t-t-think….”

He rummaged in his pocket and found a piece of paper.

“One of them g-gave me this….C-c-chris...maybe.”

He handed it to the girl.

“It’s a mobile number, you want me to ring this?”

She smiled when he hesitated.

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t, or do you want to do it?”

Suddenly he felt very unsure; his head swirled with far too may emotions. He’d been sure that he wanted nothing to do with his ‘life’; it held too much fear for him. Well, he thought it did; now he was just confused.

He looked at the phone in the girl’s hand, then shook his head.

“I c-c-can’t.”

She smiled again, “Look, just ring then to say you’re okay. They must be worried sick.”

She ushered her two flat-mates into the kitchen, and he was grateful for the privacy. His nerves were jangling as he pressed the numbers, and he nearly lost his nerve, but he finally pressed the dial button.

He almost rang off when someone answered; it sounded like the one that called himself Chris.

“H-hello.”

“Matt, oh thank Christ,” the voice replied.

“I’m o-o-okay.”

“Where are you mate?”

“I’m safe,” he said and rang off.

He wandered into the kitchen and gave her the phone back.

“Jamie said you can use his bed, he’s got to go to work. Get some sleep, then we can think about tomorrow.”

He offered her a smile as a thank you, and welcomed the silence of the bedroom; he needed to think. He lay on the bed and tried to make sense of the bewildering thoughts that whirled in his head. He had two choices…stay as he was and make a new life, or resume the life they said he had as Matthew Bellamy.

He couldn’t deny that it had been his life; it was there in all its technicolour. But he had no memory of it, but when he closed his eyes, there were flashes of things he couldn’t remember doing.

He awoke with a start, to find the morning sun warming his skin.

A knock at the door interrupted the pleasant feeling, so he got up and opened the door; it was the girl.

“Breakfast?” she asked.

He sat and watched her making scrambled egg, and looked over when she switched on the TV. 

Then she said a word that wouldn’t have been out of place in a dockyard.

“You little toad, I’m going to kill you.”

She turned to him and said, “I’m sorry.”

He could only stare at the screen….he’d thought he could trust these people.

“I h-h-have to go,” he stammered, panic rising.

“Please…don’t,” the girl said, but he was out of the door and running down the stairwell.

He burst out of the building and skidded to a halt, as he was blinded by the flash of cameras and his ears were assaulted by a cacophony of voices. He tried to back away, but the door only opened with a code; he was trapped.

He looked round in sheer panic, and for some reason he hoped to see the two men he’d not long ago met, or Rachel. But he couldn’t see them, only people shouting questions at him.

But he did see a way out of this crowd and he took it, for once his slight figure an advantage. He wormed his way through the gaggle of press and was out on the street.

He thought he heard someone calling “Matt!” but he wasn’t going to stop….he wanted to disappear.

He heard the name being called again, and this time he looked round….which was a mistake.

He heard the screech of brakes…then nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Dom and Chris had been on edge ever since the phone call from Matt.

“He’s safe, that’s all he said!” Dom was almost yelling.

“That’s all he said,” Chris replied and shrugged his shoulders. “For someone who doesn’t know who he is, he’s got a Bellamy sized stubborn streak.”

They’d been frustrated by the call, as it hadn’t been long enough for the police to trace it. Their hopes had fallen, what if he didn’t call again?

They couldn’t bear thinking that he might be lost again.

Then as morning showed its face, they got news. It should have been good news, but it was ruined by panic, as someone had told the press where he was. Then it had been a mad dash in a squad car, only to find a large group of paparazzi, reporters and camera crews surrounding the entrance to an apartment block.

“Where is he?” Dom said.

“I can’t see him,” Chris replied.

Suddenly Tom shouted, “There!”

Matt appeared from between two camera crews.

“Matt!” Chris and Dom shouted together.

Either Matt was ignoring them or he didn’t hear them, and kept running. They saw he was heading towards the road and the traffic.

“Matt!” they called again.

This time he must have heard them, as he looked back; and it was something they would regret for a long time.

The car had no chance to avoid Matt as he ran into the road, and he disappeared under its wheels.

“Matt!” Dom cried, certain he could hear the sound of bones crunching.

“No, no,” Chris was saying and using his size, he pushed past the press, who were already heading for the accident. He snarled and shoved one paparazzi to the floor when he tried to take a picture of it.

By some miracle Matt hadn’t gone under the wheels, but he wasn’t unscathed.

“Oh Jesus,” Chris breathed…there was a lot of blood.

He could hear Dom throwing up, but then the air was full of sirens, the shouts of the press, the police, and the calm voices of the paramedic….something about head wounds looking worse that what they sometimes were.

The hours that followed were hazy and full of medical words, and then the dreaded words…blood clot and surgery.

***************************

Rachel sat in the small waiting room, the one called Chris had gone to phone his wife, and that left her with Dom. He looked distraught and tired.

He put his head in his hands and said, “We should have left him with you.”

She put a hand on his shoulder.

“No, you…we did the right thing. His life is out here. He would have never been whole, if he’d stayed, or you’d never found him.”  
Dom looked at her, and there was something accusatory in his eyes.

“You must have known he was a missing person, but you didn’t call anyone.”

Perhaps he was right, she’d been secretly glad when he’d asked Robert not to call anyone. But now she felt guilty; had she made things worse?

“When I found him on the beach………,” she stopped and let out a breath. “I had a brother, Michael. He would have been Matt’s age, but he had a terminal illness….he…I found him on the same beach, he’d drowned himself. He used to play guitar and sing, but when he couldn’t do that anymore……… When I saw, and he looked so much like Michael…I just…I’m sorry.”

She then felt Dom’s hand on hers.

“No, don’t be. He could have been lost at sea, but he wasn’t and his family, Chris, myself and all his friends are glad you found him. And I know Matt will feel the same, if he gets his memory back.”

“You shouldn’t think like that. He will get them back, what he was is what he should be, and he will be. Music is in his blood, his heart…his soul. You have to have faith in that.”

Chris came back then and they fell into silence and resumed waiting.

Eventually a doctor came in; the surgery had gone well. He was in ICU, but he was expected to make a full recovery.

“Can we see him?” Chris asked.

“It won’t hurt, since you’re the closet thing he has to family here, but only for a little while.”

Rachel didn’t move when they got up.

“No,” she said. “I think I should go. It’s you that he needs.”

Chris and Dom tried to persuade her to stay, but she wanted to go back. They hugged her and said they would keep her updated on Matt’s condition, and when he was well enough, they would come and see her.

After they had left, she walked away from the hospital, a sad smile on her face; for a little while she’d sort of had her brother back.

**************************

Matt looked even smaller hooked up to all that machinery.

“Chris,” Dom said. “I don’t care about the band, I just want Matt to be okay.”

“Yeah,” Chris nodded. “I want the annoying little short-arse back. I miss having to separate you two. You hear that mate.”

“Damn right,” Dom said. “I’m going to wind you up and watch you go.”

Soon their time was up, as the nurses came to do what they had to do.

“We’ll be back,” Dom said.

********************

Everywhere was dark, but he could hear voices…voices that sounded familiar. Hang on, that sounded like….oh, he should know those voices.   
It was….someone………

Then the voices faded and the silence made the dark even darker.

Then there were voices again, but different to the ones before. Softer voices…what were they saying? He wanted to open his eyes, to see the faces to go with voices; he tried, but his eyes didn’t listen to his brain.

He wanted to yell in frustration, but something was stopping him. He started to panic…because he couldn’t breathe.

The voices were back again, but there was different one, and this one he could understand.

“Relax Matthew, we’ll take this out and you’ll feel better.”

Matthew…Matthew? No-one had called him Matthew since school. Suddenly there was a feeling like a razor blade and then he found he could breathe. He took a huge lungful and felt more pain.

“Shallow breaths, Matthew,” the voice said. “Try and open your eyes for me.”

This time his eyes actually did as he told them, and he blinked at the light.

“Well done, Matthew,” the same voice said.

A face appeared...well he assumed it was a face; it was blurry and seemed to be very white. He tried to ask what was happening, but it felt like he’d swallowed a whole bunch of needles.

“Don’t try to talk, Matthew.”

Don’t talk…why? He wanted to talk.

“Matthew, you need to stay calm.”

Please….he wanted to say….the other voices….he wanted to. He suddenly felt very sleepy and then the dark and the silence returned.


	9. Chapter 9

Dom was woken by the overly-jaunty ring tone of his mobile. He was still half asleep when he answered it, but by the end of it, he was wide awake. He dressed quickly and was out the door, to find Chris and the others already in the corridor.

“He woke up,” Dom said, not stopping the grin that formed.

Chris grinned back, “Yeah, they’re bringing the car round.”

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever, and they were dis-heartened when they were told he’d only been awake for a few minutes, before he had to be sedated.

“Unfortunately he became agitated, which is quite common for patient with head trauma, or recent brain surgery. The sedation is to keep him calm.”

“So, he’s not going to wake up again?” Dom said.

“Of course he will, once the nurses have seen to his personal needs, we’ll decrease the level of sedation. There is one piece of good news, he did respond to his name.”

“So, he’ll be okay?” Chris said.

The doctor’s face became serious, “We have yet to assess Matthew.”

“Why do you need to do that?” Chris asked.

“Matthew suffered head trauma, the brain is a delicate thing, and we have no way of knowing if the trauma or the surgery has caused any damage.”

“Are you saying he could be…?” Dom started to say but trailed off.

“We’re speculating nothing, as yet. The neurologist is due in tomorrow and he will be having more scans. But as I said, I’m going to decrease the sedation. It would be beneficial to Matthew to have familiar faces around him.”

They nervously sat whilst the nurses went about their tasks. It didn’t seem right, that he was so helpless. As soon as the nurses were finished, the doctor returned and adjusted the sedation. 

He leant closer and said, “Matthew, open your eyes for me. I know you can. No…Mr Howard, perhaps you should try.”

Dom shot a nervous look at the doctor and with encouragement from Chris and Tom, he took the doctor’ place.

“Matt, come on. Show me those baby blues.”

He hoped that Matt recognised the shortened version of his name. He watched as Matt frowned, that familiar V appearing between his eyebrows, the one he got when he was puzzled or concentrating.

It looked like he was trying to say something, but it seemed to be a huge effort. When he finally spoke, the words were slightly slurred, but Dom smiled at the words.

“Go away Dom…sleepy.”

Dom looked over at the others…they knew. Since they’d found him, Matt had called him Dominic, and the contraction of his name meant only one thing; he had got his memory back.

“Encourage him some more, Mr Howard,” the Doctor said.

“Come on Matt, you’ve had enough sleep, you lazy bum.”

He smiled again when Matt opened his eyes.

“Hello,” Dom said.

“Dom…where?” Matt said.

“You’re in hospital.”

Once again there was that frown.

“Hospital…. but we're on the yacht.”

Dom frowned and then looked at the doctor, who stepped forward.

“Matthew, do you know what the date is?”

“Date? The twentieth.”

“What month and year, Matthew?”

“November two thousand and thirteen….is something wrong?”

Dom could see the puzzlement turning to panic, so he put a hand on Matt’s chest.

“Matt, its June two thousand and fourteen.”

The machine that was monitoring Matt’s heart began to beep, drawing the doctor’s attention.

“I think perhaps that is enough for now. Gentlemen, if you please, Matthew needs his rest.”

“I don’t understand, “Matt was saying, a note of panic now entering his voice.

“Just rest now, Matthew,” the Doctor said.

“My name is Matt, not Matthew!” Matt suddenly snarled.

Everybody stared at him, the sudden aggression startling them.

“Yes, definitely enough,” the doctor said.

*************************

He heard that voice again, and it was still calling him Matthew. Well, he wasn’t going to lose sleep is they couldn’t be bothered to use the shortened version.

Then he heard another voice, but this one called him Matt….he knew that voice. He wanted to answer, but he found it hard, but finally, with some effort he said.

“Go away Dom…sleepy.”

That’s it, it was Dom, or was it?

The then voice came again and he was certain it was Dom; only he would have the balls to interrupt his sleep and face grumpy Matt. He opened his eyes, but everything was way too bright.

Since when had cabins on boats been this bright?

He focused on the voice instead…yes, it was Dom.

“Hello,” Dom said.

He looked round, this wasn’t the yacht; it looked like……

“Dom…..where?”

“You’re in hospital, “Dom replied.

“Hospital, but we’re on the yacht.”

Why was Dom frowning?

Then what looked like a doctor moved into view.

“Matthew, do you know what the date is?”

What a dumb-arse question.

“Date….the twentieth.”

“What month and year, Matthew?”

Now he had the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“November, two thousand and thirteen…is something wrong?”

Then Dom put a hand on his chest and said.

“Matt, its June two thousand and fourteen.”

What…no, that couldn’t be right? His heart started to race and it felt like his pulse was pounding out one of Dom’s drum riffs.

“I think perhaps that’s enough for now,” the doctor was saying.

No, he wanted to know, “I don’t understand.”

Why weren’t they listening to him?

“Just rest now, Matthew,” the doctor said.

A flash of anger ripped through him and he snarled, “My name is Matt, not Matthew!”

“Yes, definitely enough,” the doctor said.

************************

Dom and the others were ushered away, but they were taken aback by Matt’s outburst…sure, he could sometimes be narky…but not in front of strangers, and the venom in his voice was definitely not Matt.

It seemed like hours before the door opened and not one but three doctors entered.

“This is Doctor Monroe, one of our neurologists.”

“I assume you know Mr Bellamy quite well?” Dr Monroe asked.

“Well…yeah,” Chris replied.

“And tell me, the aggression you witnessed, is that part of his normal behaviour?”

“He can be a little off sometimes, but no,” Dom said.

Doctor Monroe cleared his throat.

“We did another set of scans and well, we found some damage to his frontal lobe. It’s very small, but it will and obviously has affected his personality.”

“Is it permanent?” Chris asked.

“I won’t commit to a diagnosis yet. It could be bruising or the after-effects of surgery.”

“So, he’ll be here for a while?” Tom asked.

“Not necessarily. Physically he seems fine, and you do have some of the finest treatment facilities in the UK. I can’t see why he can’t be transferred, and it might be better if he was in familiar surroundings.”

“So, he can go home?” Dom asked, hope rising.

“I can’t see why not. We will contact the appropriate medical teams in the UK, but yes. Take Mr Bellamy home. But first, let me give you some information on what to expect.”

Dom and Chris went back to Matt’s room. They were a little nervous, unsure now of his reaction. It had been a blow they weren’t expecting, but they had weathered the storm of the last six months, so they could ride this storm as well.

They were glad to see Matt was sitting up, and he seemed to be in a better mood, but after talking with the doctors, they knew his mood could swing suddenly.

“Hey, guess what mate, you can go home.”

The smile Matt gave them made them smile too, and they could only hope that the damage wasn’t permanent; they really didn’t want to lose their friend again.


	10. Chapter 10

Matt looked out of the window and watched the clouds scud by. They were sitting in the VIP lounge at Heathrow, waiting for the car.

He was still trying to take in what Chris and Dom had told him. He’d been suffering from amnesia and had been missing for six months.

But it seemed like a story to him, as the last thing he remembered was standing on the rails, looking at the water.

They’d tried to explain, but he’d snapped at them to sod off and leave him alone, and he’d sat as far away from them as he could on the flight back home; he felt miserable.

Now he knew he had to face the gauntlet of the press, that were waiting just outside the lounge…and he was terrified.

He turned away from the window and saw Dom approaching, and some of his fear seemed to melt away.

“You ready for this?” Dom asked.

He wanted to say yes, but instead he said.

“No, can’t I stay here?”

Dom crouched down in front of him and put his hands on his knees.

“Matt, you have to go home and rest.”

“But,” he whined, the fear that had lessened now ramping up again.

Dom smiled and said, “You know me and Chris won’t let them near you. So, come on...yeah?”

He looked into Dom’s eyes, searching for the truth in his words and saw it.

“Ok-k-ay,” he stammered.

They had only just stepped out of the lounge when the press were on them.

He froze and tried to get back into the lounge, but the door was locked. His world started to contract, and he felt his heart thudding.

Then he felt a hand in his, and a voice say.

“You can do this.”

Then they were in the car and inside his house and he fled upstairs into his bedroom and locked the door. He threw himself onto his bed and only then did some of his fear drain away.

Eventually exhaustion took him and drifted into sleep.

***********************

Dom hadn’t relaxed since they’d left the hospital. Although he and Chris had been told what to expect, it was still a shock when Matt had snarled “Sod off and leave me alone” at them as they settled in for the flight home.

They could only watch as Matt sat as far away as he possibly could and cut a forlorn picture, but he just glared at them when they tried to sit near him.

Now they were sitting in the VIP lounge at Heathrow and he could see how tense Matt was, and he knew it could only be the horde of press and fans that were camped outside the door.

Matt looked round as he approached, and the fear was written large on his face.

“You ready for this?” he asked, not sure what kind of reply he would get.

“No, c-can’t I stay here?”

Dom sighed, gone was the surly, belligerent Matt, replaced by one the seemed small and frightened….how were they going to cope with this?

He crouched down and put his hands on Matt’s knees.

“Matt, you have to go home and rest.”

“But,” Matt whined, sounding way too much like a frightened child.

“You know me and Chris won’t let them near you….so, come on, yeah?”

He was startled when Matt looked him in the eyes, and he felt like he was searching for something.

Whatever it was, he must have found it, because he stammered.

“Ok-kay.”

The second they stepped out of the lounge the press were on them, and they went straight for Matt. If Matt had been himself he would have handled them easily, but he wasn’t himself, and Dom saw that he was terrified.

It looked like he was trying to get back into the VIP lounge; he looked like a trapped animal.

His protective side flared and he pushed his way through the pack and grabbed Matt’s hand and said.

“You can do this.”

He pulled Matt along and then they were in the car.

But Dom’s hopes that it would gain Matt’s trust were dashed as soon as they reached Matt’s house. He fled upstairs and never came down.

*********************

The night seemed to pass peacefully, but they took turns in checking on Matt, who thankfully seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep.

Tom made an early morning food run, scattering the press that were lingering outside the gates.

“Should we get him up?” Tom said.

“Nah,” Dom said. “If the smell of bacon doesn’t shift him.”

Breakfast was almost over and they thought Matt wasn’t going to show. But then he appeared, looking like he did most mornings, hair everywhere, and for a second they thought it was like every other morning.

But Matt picked up a few rashers of bacon from the warm plate and wandered off.

His three friends looked at each other…and they felt deflated.

“I’ll find him,” Tom said, pouring a mug of coffee and going off in search of Matt.

****************

“Is this what it’s going to be like?” Dom said. “I don’t think he even knew we were here.”

“That what the doctor said might happen. The damage….”

“He’s not damaged,” Dom said. “They didn’t say that.”

“Dom, we have to think like that. If he is….if, then he and his family are going to need all the help we can give them.”

“I don’t want to hear it Chris, not until they say it. He’s going to get better…he’s Matt for Christ’s sake.”

Chris shrugged his shoulders, “We’ll see on Monday.”

They didn’t want to think about Monday…the hospital, and scans and what might be a life-changing day.

They fell into silence, but it was suddenly broken by Tom’s voice…and he sounded angry.

“What the…..get out…get the hell out!”

They stared at each other and then bolted for the conservatory, then skidded to a halt.

Tom was trying to shove a man out of the doors.

The man had a camera and the whirr of it taking pictures filled the air.

But their attention was taken by the small figure that was trying to crawl into the corner of the conservatory; it was Matt and he was hurt, blood running from a cut to his face.

Chris let out a growl and rounded on the man, who was still trying to take pictures.

“Bloody bastard!” he snarled and tried to wrench the camera from the man’s hand, but failed.

He physically picked the man up and dragged him through the house, out of the front door. The two very surprised security men just about managed to grab hold of him as Chris threw him at them.

The gates were opened and they threw him out as Chris bellowed.

“Sod off, the lot of you! Bloody vultures!”

He ran back into the house and found they’d moved Matt to the kitchen. The small man was shaking and let out a small whimper as Dom tried to clean the cut above his right eye.

“What the hell happened?” he said to Tom.

“I was sitting with Matt, he seemed okay. Wasn’t talking but didn’t seem to mind me being there. Then that twat came out of nowhere, put his camera right in Matt’s face. Then Matt freaked out, fell over and hit his head on the table, and the guy kept on taking pictures. I tried to stop him, then you came in. I’m sorry guys, this is going to make the front pages.”

“Not your fault,” Chris said. “How is he?” he asked Dom.

“This needs stitches,” he said as he placed a tea-towel over the cut. “Jesus, he’s shaking like hell. It’s okay Matt, he’s gone. Chris, can you call his GP…sit still Matt.”

Matt was fidgeting, as if he wanted to get away.

“Matt…sit still,” Dom said, his voice much firmer, but it seemed to work.

“That’s better, it looks like we going have to go public, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Chris said. 

“I’m so sorry Matt,” Tom said, knowing that it was about to get very public and very messy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst news...

It took several hours and a visit from Matt’s GP to regain some equilibrium. He said that Matt should really go to A&E, but having been through the large group of press, he understood their reluctance.

Luckily, Matts injury wasn’t as bad as it looked, and a couple of steri-strips and advice to have it looked at when they went to the hospital on Monday later; then they were alone.

However Matt seemed to become very clingy, becoming anxious when either Chris or Dom left the room…but especially Dom.

The evening closed in and eventually the house fell into a comfortable silence. Chris and Tom had gone to see if the press had left, and finding that they had, they left to find some dinner for later.

This left Dom with Matt, who seemed content to sit on the piano stool.

“Why don’t you play something,” Dom said, knowing how it usually mellowed the front man.

He went into the kitchen as a few notes floated in the air. He recognise the piece, it was one that Matt had been working on for the next album.

He started making a sandwich, humming along to the melody; noting the changes he’d made from the last time he’d played it…six months ago.

He stopped as it hit him…six months…six months of not knowing if Matt was dead or alive. In the debacle that had followed his actually being alive, he hadn’t actually thought about it.

What if Matt had never been spotted…or god forbid, his body had been found. It hadn’t sunk in, until now, as he heard the melody.

He felt nauseous and his hands started to shake. Was this what they called delayed shock? Or was it more?

Ever since he’d met Matt, he’d cared for him…no, stop it Dom, you can’t think of Matt that way. Besides, Matt wasn’t inclined that way.

The thought was stopped when the melody suddenly faltered, but didn’t pick up again. He thought that Matt was re-thinking the melody, but there was no more music. He finished making the sandwich and went back into the lounge…and forgot the sandwich.

Matt was still sitting at the piano, but he had his head in his hands.

Dom sat next to him.

“You okay?”

He thought Matt wasn’t going to reply, but he did, and it was a question…one that Dom didn’t know how to answer.

“Dom, is there something wrong with me?”

He blinked…what the hell did he say? To hell with it. They’d been friends for twenty years. If he couldn’t be honest, then what did any of it mean?

“Matt, you know you got hit by a car?”

“Yeah.”

Matt gave him one of his ‘of course you idiot’ looks, Dom smiled; that hadn’t changed.

“And you know they had to remove a blot clot. Well, there was bruising to your frontal lobe and….Christ, I’m not a doctor. Well, it makes your behaviour unpredictable.”

He could literally see the cogs turning in Matt’s head.

“Is it permanent?”

“We don’t know, they won’t say yes or no. You’re going for more scans on Monday.”

Matt let out a sigh, “I thought I was going mad. I can handle it, if it’s physical, just didn’t want it to be in my head.”

“Matt, what if it is permanent?”

“Then we deal with it, like all the other shit that’s been thrown at us, I haven’t lost the things that are important…my friends and the music.”

Dom was startled when Matt put his hand over his.

“We’ll cope…and thank you for being honest.”

Dom tried not to show any reaction, but when Matt had touched him, he’d felt a tingle, and he wondered if Matt had felt it too.

*******************

Monday came round too quickly and Matt’s mood was far different from that night. He was unbelievably recalcitrant…so much so, that Chris had to physically manhandle him out of the house and into the car.

As if that wasn’t stressful enough, they had to drive through the press, and the flashes of the cameras had upset Matt even more.

By the time they got to the hospital he was beyond recalcitrant and the staff had to sedate him to get him to stay still inside the scanner.

Then they got the news they didn’t want to hear, and whilst Matt slept off the sedative, they let the news sink into their souls…….there had been some healing, but there was still damage, not enough to make Matt’s life intolerable, but enough that everything would change.


End file.
